Christmas Rain
by Iffy Jr
Summary: Derek/Stiles AU. "Stiles has lived alone for a while now, so his greatest form of entertainment is going to sit on his rocking chair out on his porch when it rains with a good book, some great coffee, and a cigarette. No one has ever bothered him before, but nobody should be walking through the rain on Christmas Eve all by their lonesome. Stiles is sick of being alone anyway."


**Notes**: Decided that I'd write a Christmas fic for the holidays :)

**Disclaimer**: You know the drill!

**Summary**: Derek/Stiles AU. "Stiles has lived alone for a while now, so his greatest form of entertainment is going to sit on his rocking chair out on his porch when it rains with a good book, some great coffee, and a cigarette. No one has ever bothered him before, but nobody should be walking through the rain on Christmas Eve all by their lonesome either. Stiles is sick of being alone anyway."

**Pairing**: Derek/Stiles  
**Rating**: Mature  
**Additional tags/warnings**: strong language; AU - Human; AU – College; Christmas Eve, Christmas; romance; cigarettes; sexual content; bottom!Stiles, top!Derek; PWP, PWalittleP, okay so it's like PW6pagesofP

PS I finished my senior project (writing a book) and I've been editing that so much that I'm just so sick of re-reading things so I'm sorry but I totally didn't go through this one. Just warning you so if something is awkwardly misplaced or whatever it's probably wrong and you can just message me/comment for me to fix it!

* * *

**Christmas Rain**

Stiles pulls in a deep drag from his cigarette, looking up from his book to stare out at the pouring rain. He's read this one before, but as Oscar Wilde said, "If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all." So here he is.

Stiles' house is small, with one story and one bathroom, but he likes it. He lives alone, so he gets to do whatever he wants with it. Not that he's done much of that. As a teenager he thought the idea of decorating an entire house would be fun because he couldn't, but now that he can he doesn't really feel like it. He's got some pictures up, but mostly it's just his bedroom that has any _real_ decorating—which consists of his red bedspread, multi-colored Christmas lights strung up around the ceiling, and a miniature white tree in the corner. It's Christmas Eve, which is the reason the tree is up, but he'll probably just keep the lights up for always, now. They're calming.

Stiles is alone on such a holiday, but he's almost always alone anyway, so it's not a huge deal to him. He likes being alone. It's nice. He'll go out to a club tomorrow with the other college students who don't go home to family, and maybe he'll take some home or go to someone else's home. He doesn't really care if that happens or not either, though. worst case he spends it completely alone like usual.

His Christmas present to himself this year was not buying anything so he'd have money for bills and college, which is a pretty shitty present, but it's all he really needs. The only reason he has a house instead of an apartment is because this is where his grandparents used to live, but after they passed away he moved in. his mom died when he was ten and his dad died when he was seventeen. Stiles is twenty-two now.

Stiles likes the rain. It doesn't snow where he lives in Beacon Hills, California, so this is the closest they're going to get to a white Christmas. It doesn't rain very often, but Stiles always comes out here when it does. He's poor and he's young and he likes to read, so it's really his only form of entertainment out here. Right now he's out in the rocking chair he made in woodshop back in his senior year of high school, curled up with a blanketed, an illegal amount of shirt layers, a beanie, some gloves, and a scarf. Besides that he's got his book, a mug of hot chocolate (with a candy cane sticking out of it for some minty flavoring), and a cigarette burning away at his lips. So basically he looks like a hipster to anyone who passes by.

Well, if anyone _was_ passing by. Considering that it's Christmas Eve and also that it's pouring down like no tomorrow, he wouldn't really expect anyone to—

A figure suddenly comes out from the rain, moving down the sidewalk. As far as Stiles can tell he's just in a hood-less jacket and jeans, which is crazy enough in December, but with the rain?

"How's the weather out there?" Stiles calls, holding his cigarette away from his mouth.

The figure looks up, and Stiles can barely make out the confused face in the downpour. "It's…refreshing," the stranger says. His voice is a little awkward, like he didn't expect to be yelled at. Stiles wouldn't have expected it either.

"I've got an umbrella I could give away," he says. "Or at the very least a hoodie."

"I'd rather just have a light, if you've got one."

Stiles holds up his cigarette. "Come on up."

The man movies quickly, hopping the three steps up the porch. He shakes himself a little bit, and Stiles' eyes widen the tiniest bit. This guy is…damn. Tall and strong looking, with green eyes, dark hair with matching stubble, and one hardcore leather jacket. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a dripping pack of cigarettes.

Stiles snorts. "Put that away," he says. "The box is falling apart. You won't be able to light a thing." He points to the floor beside the rocking chair. "Take a dry one."

He gives a thankful look, bending down to pull one out. The lighter is down there too, so he just lights his up before standing.

"Thanks," he says after his drag, moving back towards the steps.

"Going anywhere?" Stiles asks after a sip from his hot chocolate. "If not you can sit on the stairs or something. I mean, I guess I'm not really sure why you'd be out here for no reason, but…" He flits a wrist. "Pretty boys can do whatever they want on Christmas Eve, I supposed."

He blinks at Stiles for a few seconds, taking another drag. "I'm not going anywhere, actually."

Stiles gives an awkward laugh. "Sorry. It was kind of a compliment. I mean, if pretty boy is a compliment." He looks down at his book. "Maybe you should just go before I embarrass myself some more."

Instead of that, the guy sits down on the porch across from Stiles, leaning against the railing. "I could use some entertainment," he says, crisscrossing his legs.

Stiles grins. "Well, I'm all alone, so that's good to hear. What's your name?"

"It's Derek," he says, tapping the cigarette outside of the rails. Stiles himself has a little dish on the porch beside him. "You?"

"I'm Stiles," he says.

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Stiles?"

"It's a nickname?"

"Ah. My closest nickname makes me want to slit throats, so I try not to mention it."

"My real name is the same, so." He shrugs. "What brings you out here all by your lonesome then, Derek?"

Derek shrugs. "Family night gone wrong."

Stiles cringes. "Never had that issue, but I've read about them. Doesn't sound much fun."

"No, it…wasn't."

They each pull in a drag.

"What happened?" Stiles asks.

"There are just three of us left," Derek says, "so we kind of just fell apart. My uncle's an asshole and my sister couldn't take it. So we left. My car is still parked at his place, I just didn't take it since I don't live out here and didn't know anywhere to go. I just sort of started walking."

"Sounds like what I'd do," Stiles says, finally marking the page of his book and setting it down on the porch beside him. "Except I'm just here on my own anyway, so if I want to walk out on myself it…well, it's kind of useless."

Derek nods, moving his legs so that his knees are up instead of crossed. Stiles forces himself to take a drink of his hot chocolate so he doesn't try to scope out any…sizes between legs.

"What's your nickname?" he asks once he's finished his glass."

Derek snorts. "I don't think so."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. Come on, we'll never see each other again. It'll be fun."

Derek eyes him wearily before sighing. "Fine."

Stiles grins. "My full name is Ludovic Odysseus Stilinski."

Derek gives a dropped jaw look. "You're kidding."

Stiles shakes his head. "I'm not."

"That's a mouthful."

He nods. "What's your nickname?"

He gives another sigh, though this one longer. "It's Der-Bear."

Stiles snorts. "Oh, man, that's rough. I'm sorry."

Derek nods. "Yeah, it sucks. My uncle makes it worse, of course." He huffs. "Anyway…" He flicks his finger across his cigarette, now finished. "Looks like I should be on my way again."

Stiles purses his lips. "Are you just going to…keep walking?"

He nods as he stands. "I don't' have anywhere to be tomorrow, either. Or ever."

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Traveling the country without a job?"

"Traveling the country as a journalist, actually. I don't write too great, but there are editors for that when certain people like what you have to say enough."

Stiles grins. "Gonna write about a mysterious twenty-two year old hipster looking kid who gives away dry cigarettes, now?"

Derek arches an eyebrow. "You're twenty-two."

"Yes, thank you, I'm aware I look twelve."

Derek snorts. "I thought nineteen."

"Well how old are _you_?"

"Twenty-seven."

Stiles nods. "That looks about right."

Derek nods in turn, moving towards the stairs. "It was nice meeting you, Stiles. Thanks for the light."

Stiles nods, raising his empty mug to him. "Thanks for the company."

Derek is about four steps down the sidewalk when Stiles gives an internal groan and leaps up to lean against the railing.

"Hey!"

Derek turns around.

"Wanna stay for another?"

Derek stares back for a few seconds. "How many others?"

Stiles grins. "As many as you want. I've got more boxes inside."

Derek comes back, taking the steps one at a time. "Got another blanket in there?"

Stiles laughs. "I've got dry clothes and a fireplace and everything."

He grinds out his cigarette before gathering up his things, shuffling back inside with Derek after him. They each kick their shoes off before moving back to the bedroom.

"Here," Stiles says after he's set everything on his bed, holding his biggest pair of sweats up. "These should fit. And…" He grabs up a big t-shirt. "This. The bathroom is just out there to left. There's a towel in the cupboard under the sink."

Derek nods, and as soon as he disappears Stiles shuts his bedroom door so he can change as well. All his layers are unnecessary now, so he quick pulls on a different pair of sweats, a giant sweatshirt, and cleaner socks. When he's ready, Derek is still in the bathroom, so he moves out to the living room with his blanket, book, and now empty mug so he can get the fire going.

When he stands, Derek is walking in, wet clothes and towel in hand.

"I'll dry those," Stiles says, grabbing everything before Derek can protest. The laundry room is close, so he just shoves everything inside and sets it for low dry for the sake of the leather jacket. "Hot chocolate?" he asks as he walks back into the living room.

Derek shrugs. "Sure."

Stiles leads them to the kitchen, making some for both of them.

"And…" He pulls the old pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "I know it's bad, but we're smoking these inside anyway."

The first ten seconds on the couch in front of the fire is awkward, but Derek breaks it:

"What's someone like you doing all alone, anyway? You seem like the type that's keen on making a lot of friends."

"I'm kind of annoying," Stiles says, tapping some ashes into the dish on the coffee table. "My last real friend was in high school, but I moved away after that." He shrugs.

Derek nods. "I can see that."

Stiles snorts. "Thanks."

He shrugs in turn. "You said it."

Stiles gives a good natured eye roll and pulls the blanket off of the back of the couch to fluff if over his legs. "Come 'ere, this blanket is huge and you still look freezing."

Derek scoots over slowly, but after a few awkward seconds of trying not to tough another grown man he just huffs and presses up against Stiles' side to wrap himself up.

Stiles chuckles, pulling his knees up to his chest. "You're cute." He blows his latest drag into Derek's face.

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Cute _and_ pretty?"

"You heard me, Der-Bear."

Derek gives him a red-eyed glare. "I will slit your throat, Ludovic."

Stiles grins. "I like you."

Derek blinks for a few seconds, taken aback. "I…don't think anyone has ever told me that before."

Stiles nods, pulling in a drag. "Join the club. Well." He frowns. "Not anymore, now that you have."

"How about this?" Derek reaches over and plucks Stiles' cigarette up, trading with his that's nearly finished already. "I like you, too."

Stiles grins. "Cool." He snatches the cigarette back. "But not cool enough that you get this." He hands him the box. "Yours are currently in a tumble dry."

Derek nods, pulling out a new one. "You can have it, if you want."

Stiles snorts. "Thanks." He pulls out his lighter. "You look good in my sweats, by the way. What time do you usually go to bed?"

Derek shrugs. "You look good in yours too. Not until really late, these days. Midnight."

"Midnight is _late_ to you?"

"I grew up going to bed no later than nine."

"That explains that." He elbows him a little. "You're getting warmer."

Derek nods. "Yeah, the fire is nice. Is this how you always spend your nights?"

Stiles nods. "Most of them, yeah. Homework, poor people food, bills, the budget… The usual college student life."

"Sounds boring."

"It is, especially when you don't have any party friends. Did you not go to college?"

"No, I did, for two years. I just had a lot of party friends."

"How on earth did you have a party life and also go to bed by _nine_?"

"By winning beer pong early and then passing out in a bedroom before they were all taken."

"That's crazy. If I had any parties to go to I'd be up all night."

"I bet we could go find one."

"One Christmas Eve?"

"Yeah, there are probably tons."

Stiles grins at him, but as he stares, it falters.

Derek frowns at the look. "The idea appealed to you a second ago."

Stiles looks away towards the fire. "It did."

"Why did it stop?"

Stiles purses his lips. "Id just rather stay here."

"What for?"

Stiles gives an internal _what the hell_ and grins up at the man. "Because it's raining, it's warm, and this couch has wonderful company."

Derek rolls his eyes a little, looking away towards the fire as Derek did before. "Good enough reasons for a boring college student, I suppose."

"Fine," Stiles says, grinding out the but of his cigarette. "You want something better? I'll give you something better." With one last internal _fuck it_, Stiles reaches a hand up to the back of Derek's neck and yanks him down for a kiss.

The man gives a wide-eyed look, and it's still just as wide as Stiles pulls away.

"There," he says, grinning. "Reasons number four."

Derek blinks at him.

"Don't give me that look," Stiles says, snorting. "I haven't kissed anyone since this girl kissed _me_ in our junior years of high school to stop a panic attack I was having—it wasn't even because she liked me." He shrugs. "So that was probably weirder for me than it was for you, to be honest."

Derek blinks some more.

Stiles blinks back for a second before giving an eye roll. "You must hate drunk girls at all of those parties you went to." He looks to the fireplace. "Or the drunk guys, for that matter. Not that I'm drunk. All I've had is hot chocolate. Although I probably taste more like cigarette smoke. Or maybe—"

Derek elbows him.

Stiles looks up at him, eyes wide.

"You talk to much," the man says.

Stiles snorts. "I _told_ you I was annoying."

Derek's hand comes up to Stiles' chin, tilting his head up. He looks like he's hesitating for a split second, but he goes for it just like that. Bending down just enough to press their lips together again.

When he pulls away, Stiles grins. "Or maybe you _like_ the drunk ones."

Derek manages to breathe out a snort. "_Please_ stop talking."

He kisses Stiles again, the hand under his chin moving to the side of his neck. Stiles hums a little, reaching his hands up to wrap around Derek's neck. He leans backwards, forcing Derek to lean forward until he just flops over him and they're both lying down on the couch.

Stiles grins as Derek leans up the slightest bit for a breath. "What is this, The Holiday?" he asks.

Derek raises an eyebrow. "You said you're not drunk."

"Forget Jude Law; maybe I'm Cameron Diaz!"

"Do you have terrifying commitment issues?"

"Well…no."

"Then you're not her either."

"Either way, I'm never going to see you again, and I really want to have sex with you."

Derek blinks for a few more seconds before nodding. "Okay."

Stiles grins again before pulling him back down for another kiss, pushing his arms up to wrap around his neck. Derek's hand on his neck moves away to lean on it for support, and one of his knees pushes up between Stiles' legs. Stiles wants to taste every inch of Derek's skin in a single go, but he also wants to map it out slow and memorable…

Stiles frowns when Derek pulls away the slightest bit, but the way his eyes have become completely back erases it completely. They both sit up with an unspoken agreement to move to the bedroom, attempting to kiss while getting there but just giving up when Stiles snorts and almost trips.

"You are nowhere near my usual type," Derek says as he drops to sit onto the bed.

Stiles laughs as he crawls up to straddles the man, pushing him until he's on his back. "Well you are _totally_ my type, so it's your loss."

Derek hums, pulling Stiles down by his t-shirt. "I don't think loss is quite the right word."

Stiles just kisses him instead of answering, letting Derek's tongue push in past his lips. He drops his hands down to his sides to shove his shirt up, splaying his fingers over his stom—

"Oh my _god_," he says.

Derek frowns, eyes wide. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Stiles says, shoving the shirt up all the way and looking down. "How often do you work out?"

Derek laughs, sitting them both back up and yanking his own shirt off completely. "Way too much," he says. "My sister makes me come volunteer at the rock climbing facility she works at all the time and there's a gym right next door

Stiles pokes at a couple spots. "I don't think I could get this fit even if I worked out every _day_."

Derek shrugs, pushing his hands under Stiles' own shirt and tossing it onto the floor as well. "I think you're _perfect_."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Don't do that; it's like an obligated compliment or something."

"Take it or leave it."

Stiles gives a good natured roll of his eyes. "Fine." He leans back to kiss him again, knocking them back down.

Derek's hands reach up to Stiles' jeans and undoes the button and zipper with ease, rolling them onto their sides to push both the pants and boxers down at once. Stiles does the same for him before Derek rolls them back with Stiles on top, gasping into each other's mouths at the bare contact.

Stiles nips at Derek's bottom lip and starts to trail his mouth down his jaw to get to his neck, biting lightly and grinning around the action when Derek's hands tighten. He darts out his tongue to drag across his skin, grinning again when those fingers dig into his skin. When he sucks in on the skin, one of Derek's hands pushes up into Stiles' hair and tugs at it in an unspoken plea not to stop.

Stiles stops anyway, moving to kiss up his jaw and then leaning away just enough that his lips aren't touching him. "You've got a neck thing, eh?"

Derek looks like he's about to make an excuse, but Stiles continues before he can:

"That's okay. I like your neck, so…" He shrugs a bit. "We both win."

Derek grins and pulls him down for a short kiss. "Do you have—"

"You really don't think I've got everything for this?"

He rolls his eyes the slightest bit, but it's got a good nature to it. "From what I've learned about you in these last few hours, you wouldn't even be able to _buy_ any of those things without blushing."

Stiles ducks his head a bit. "Yeah, well, the cashier hit on me, so."

Derek breathes a laugh, pushing at Stiles' shoulders. "Lube, whirlwind."

Stiles doesn't _care_ that he's naked, he just rolls off of Derek and bends over backwards to get to his nightstand drawer, grabbing out both the bottle of lube and a condom.

"You're weirder than I thought," Derek says when he leans back up.

Stiles grins, holding out the bottle. "I expect you to stay anyway."

Derek nods, taking the bottle. "I'm going to stay anyway."

He kisses Stiles again, pushing him down onto his back. Stiles hears the snick of the bottle, and he readies himself for—

Derek's palm presses against his hip, sliding down slow instead of the instant pressing in that Stiles expected. He doesn't push in right away when he gets there, either, but just slips over it instead.

"I may be weirder," Stiles says around his mouth, "but you're a hell of a lot _softer_ than I would have thought."

Derek just hums before a finger is being pushed in, and Stiles lets out a little breath at the way it feels. He's done it to himself before, but just like handjobs, it's better when somebody else is doing it over you.

When Derek has stretched Stiles with three fingers, Stiles shoves his hand away in a vocal-less begging to just fuck him already. Derek goes with it easily, grabbing up the condom to rip it open. Stiles just pushes the trash onto the floor, knowing he can get it later.

Derek lifts one of s' legs over a shoulder and wraps the other around his waist when he's positioned there, and he looks Stiles directly into the eyes as he starts to push in. Stiles is ready for it to be unpleasant at first, but Derek stretched him well enough that it just feels good right away.

He moans out as Derek slides back out, behind his neck up so he can watch the next few stokes. Derek pushes the leg over his shoulder down around his waist with the other a moment later, looking down between them as well. Stiles' own cock is a bit in the way, but they make do.

When they do finally look away it's just at each other's faces, and Derek bends down for messy, awkward kisses as his hips buck and Stiles arches up for him. Each of them moan blatantly into each others' mouths, swallowing them away.

When Stiles really cries out there are stars flashing behind his eyes, and suddenly Derek's _hand_ is there, pumping him in time with his thrusts and it's way too much and—

Stiles is too distracted with his own orgasm to be surprised that Derek is having his at nearly the same time, his hips stuttering and then stopping completely as he moans out into the crook of Stiles' neck.

They just lie there for a few moments, trying to catch their breath, and when Derek pulls out Stiles instantly pulls him back down and kisses him hard.

"You can stay the night with me," Stiles whispers against his mouth. "If you want to."

Derek pulls away to press a kiss to Stiles' nose. "I want to."

So they both bunker down under the blankets sleep.

**XxX**

It's weird being out on the deck with Derek the next morning, leaning against the rails with a smoke each as the rain is just now trickling out after pouring hard all through the night. Stiles doesn't really want the older man to go, but he can't exactly just keep him here. Then again, he _does_ have a basement…

Stiles shakes his head. Where did that even come from?

Derek smiles at him. "What are you thinking about?"

Stiles gives an internal _what the hell_ and tells him: "Keeping you."

Derek breathes a laugh. "It's a shame I live about an hour away. This was…fun."

Stiles nods. "Fun works."

Derek flicks the butt of his cigarette out and then turns to toss it perfectly into Stiles' little ash tray over by the rocking chair. "It was really great meeting you, you know."

Stiles grins, pulling in his own last drags. Derek smokes his cigarettes a hell of a lot faster than anybody Stiles knows. "You too. Glad I yelled at you about the weather."

"And I'm glad _you_ are a smoker."

Stiles nods, his grin waning down to a smaller warm one. "Well, the next time you're in town…" He shrugs. "Swing by. I doubt I'll ever have plans in the future either."

Derek nods, leaning up from the rail. "Definitely," he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He's back into his own clothes now, all dry. The ones he wore of Stiles' are piled onto his bed where Stiles will probably be sniffing them for a few days, because seriously, who smells that good?

He starts to walk away, waving Stiles goodbye. Stiles waves his cigarette hand back, puffing out smoke. He's alone on Christmas day, but at least he had someone on Christmas morning. Waking up next to Derek was… Okay, so it was awesome. It was warm and soft and Derek kissed him on the forehead and they showered together and if Stiles believed that people could fall in love in a single night he probably would have gone for it. But instead he's just watching Derek Hale walk away for who knows how long. Maybe months, maybe years…maybe forever.

Merry Christmas, Stiles.

"Actually."

Stiles frowns, looking up from the grass below his deck to see that Derek is walking across the wet grass and getting pieces of the plant all over his shoes. "'Actually' what?"

Derek pulls out his phone and stops at the railing, just at Stiles' height. Deck's aren't really known for their height. "I think I'm going to be coming out here a hell of a lot more now, so you should give me your number."

Stiles grins, setting his finished cig onto the rail. "And why on _earth_ would you want to come out _here_ more often?" He takes Derek's phone to put his number in.

Derek shrugs. "No reason, really. Just some guy."

Stiles hands the phone back. It doesn't look like Derek has more than twenty contacts hardly. "Sounds pretty boring. You should ditch that guy and come hang out with me instead."

Derek breathes a laugh, pocketing his phone. "Deal." He starts walking away again, going backwards for a few seconds before turning around at the sidewalk. "Oh, and Stiles…" He looks over his shoulder, still walking. "Merry Christmas."

Stiles grins again, picking up his cigarette even though it's finished. "Merry Christmas, Derek."

_**-The End-**_


End file.
